


A Lack of Wisdom (Teeth)

by TheMightyChipmunk



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Anesthesia Courf, Mentions of surgery, Oral Sex, Other, Threesome - M/M/M, fluff!, insecurities!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 06:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1887978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyChipmunk/pseuds/TheMightyChipmunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time has finally come for Courfeyrac to face the music as the day of his wisdom teeth removal has finally arrived. But never fear, he has not one, not two, but three loving boyfriends to get him through this all too trying time. Now Enjolras, Combeferre, and Grantaire must stay strong for their big baby of a Courf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lack of Wisdom (Teeth)

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this because the world is sorely lacking of the 4-way pairing aaaand i really wanted it... also yes, i know you usually get your wisdom teeth removed waayyyy younger but whatever... its an AU haha 
> 
> I hope you like it :D :D :D :D :D :D

“Please don’t make me go, ‘Taire!” Courfeyrac whined from the passenger seat. The two of them were parked outside of Courfeyrac’s orthodontist office. He had managed to physically stop his body from growing wisdom teeth for almost three years past the usual date for removal. And yet still, somehow, the damned things had pushed past his defenses and now here he was, parked outside the office, waiting in the car with his boyfriend like a godforsaken coward.

“It’s not going to be that bad, I promise.” Grantaire assured, squeezing Courfeyrac’s hand tightly. Courfeyrac just glared at him, unimpressed.

“You act like I didn’t see the video of you when you got yours removed senior year.”

“Oh my God, please don’t do this.” Grantaire begged, preparing himself for the inevitable embarrassment. Senior year was a long time ago and Grantaire had changed significantly as a human being, but it was still horrible to remember the things he’d said while under the influence of waning anesthesia.  

“ _Bahorel, why doesn’t Apollo liiiike me,_ ” Courfeyrac quoted loudly, pitching his voice lower and whining slightly; Grantaire groaned loudly and rested his head against the steering wheel, “ _I’m so likeable, right ‘Rel?”_

“Stop, Courf, please, I’m begging you.”

“Oh, no, we can’t forget the _Bahorel, I want your honest opinion on sex. Like, how many Lord of the Rings references should there be, generally. Like how much is too much?”_

“Fuck! Okay! I get your point! Just please, stop. This is physically painful!” Grantaire yelled through Courfeyrac’s laughter. After a moment of catching his breath, Courfeyrac looked over to Grantaire, who was grinning widely at him, and stuck his bottom lip out in a dramatic pout.

“Do I have to, R?”

“Yes, love, I’m sorry. You need to,” Courfeyrac dropped his head back dramatically against the headrest, “Do you want to sing _One Song Glory_ one more time before we go in?” Grantaire offered. Courfeyrac lolled his head to the side so he could stare at his boyfriend before nodding enthusiastically and pressing play on his iPod so they could both sing their loudest.

###

“How are you doing today Courfeyrac?” the doctor asked cheerily. Grantaire had to bite his lip not to laugh at the look Courf had on his face.

“Not great, sir. In fact, I think I might have leprosy. There’s no possible way you can operate on me today.” Courfeyrac said, feigning sincerity. Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“He’s perfectly fine,” Grantaire said to the doctor, “Unless you count being a baby in a twenty-two-year-old’s body a disease. Which you might, because he definitely has that.” Courfeyrac looked at Grantaire like he had committed the worst betrayal since Brutus. “You’re gonna be fine.” Grantaire whispered to him, taking Courf’s hand in his once again.

“Can you do it for me?” Courfeyrac asked sweetly, bringing Grantaire’s hand to his lips in and kissing softly. Grantaire tilted his head and sighed deeply.

“Can I doctor?”

“Um, no.” the man said awkwardly, “But I promise, Courfeyrac, he’s right when he says everything is going to be fine. This is a very easy procedure. You probably won’t even be out an hour.” He said as he moved to take Courfeyrac’s blood pressure and jot stuff down on his clipboard.

“Oh no.” Grantaire muttered to himself, knowing exactly what would happen next.

“Probably? I’ll _probably_ not even be out an hour?” Courfeyrac said to the doctor, catching the man off-guard. Courfeyrac hadn’t been anything like this in the consults they’d had. He had been perfectly lovely then, as he always was, so the doctor had no idea where this was coming from. He didn’t know, as Grantaire did, that as much as Courfeyrac was calm under pressure with projects and dangerous situations and he was very impressive with that, he also had a penchant for paranoia. And, unfortunately for the doctor, somehow someone had let Courf watch that movie _Awake_ with Jessica Alba where her boyfriend or lover or something gets heart surgery and while under experiences ‘anesthesia awareness’. The night before the operation, Grantaire had woken up at two am and found Courfeyrac with a blanket over his head and his laptop, researching every single documented case of awareness during a surgery (he didn’t seem to care when Grantaire pointed out that they were all during long surgeries and Courf’s was only going to be for about thirty minutes; he still refused to hand over his laptop and Grantaire was forced to fight him for it).

“Is it possible for me to see the qualifications of the anesthesiologists who will be assisting in my operation today, doctor?” Courfeyrac asked officially once the man was finished doing his check-up. Grantaire groaned loudly and dropped his head to rest on the railing of Courf’s hospital bed. “What?” he asked indignantly, “I would like to know that I am being properly taken care of!” he practically shouted. Grantaire looked up and rested his chin on the bar.

“Courf, you’re being paranoid and you know it. Trust me when I say, everything is going to be fine. This is a _professional_ establishment. Everyone who works here is a _professional_. Stop worrying. You’re being worse than Joly, love.” Courfeyrac just pouted but nodded reluctantly when the doctor asked if he would be okay before walking out and leaving the two of them alone. Courfeyrac grumbled and shifted in his bed, trying to get comfortable and looking at anything but Grantaire as he pouted. 

“You’re excitement is infectious.” Grantaire teased, tugging on his hand to pull his attention back to him.

“Shut up.” Courf muttered, “Can you tell me a story or something? Distract me, please.”

“Hmm. You want a real one or a fictional one?”

“Real. Tell me about when Combeferre seduced you.” Courfeyrac asked excitedly. Grantaire laughed and nodded.

“Would we call it a seduction? That makes me sound like a virginal school girl. But okay, here we go. So it was sophomore year of college and Enjolras and Combeferre had already been dating for about six months. I was struggling in my biology class, which shouldn’t have even been fucking mandatory for an art major, but whatever, general ed. So, I was failing biology, and one day at the Musain, Combeferre offered to help me, since Joly was busy…”

_“It’s really not a problem, R. I’d be happy to help. Plus, my lecture for tomorrow got cancelled, so my whole afternoon is free.” Combeferre assured before taking a rather large drink of his beer, which had previously remained untouched._

_“That would be… um, awesome, Combeferre, thanks.” Grantaire replied, draining the rest of his own beer as well. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he and ‘Ferre were all that good of friends. They maybe weren’t as close as Grantaire and Bossuet or Combeferre and Enjolras, but they were friends. Sort of. They just weren’t the kind of friends that gave up time and patience to help each other with something as trivial as biology._

_“So you want me to come to your place or do you want to come to mine?” Okay, now Grantaire openly blanched. No one ever went to Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment. It just didn’t happen. Usually they went to Bahorel’s or Marius and Courfeyrac’s because they had the most room. Occasionally they went to Grantaire’s or Jehan’s, but Grantaire didn’t think he even knew where Enjolras and Combeferre lived._

_“Um, I could come to yours.” Grantaire tried, wanting to see what Combeferre would say. To Grantaire’s surprise Combeferre just smiled, seemingly happy with his choice, and nodded._

_“I’ll text you the address then. How’s one work for you?” he asked, standing up and shrugging on his jacket, leaving Grantaire to gape up at him. “R?” he asked, making Grantaire realize he had been staring for longer than he had thought._

_“Um, one is fine thanks.” One wasn’t fine. He usually slept until one thirty. Guess he wouldn’t be drinking too much that night. Just kidding. The second Combeferre was out the door, Grantaire downed the beer he had left behind and got up to walk to the bar for something stronger._

_Because again, Grantaire and Combeferre weren’t the greatest of friends, but that didn’t mean that Grantaire didn’t notice him. He noticed him a lot. It was hard not to. Sure, in high school he hadn’t really given him all that much thought, but back then Grantaire had been pathetically obsessed with Enjolras. Once they hit college and Grantaire had moved on (incrementally) from his preoccupation with Apollo, and when Combeferre came back from his family vacation in Greece he was practically impossible to ignore. Because holy shit Combeferre looked good tan. He had grown out his hair too, so it was suddenly all floppy and brown where it used to be a buzz-cut throughout all of high school and he’d grown about two inches so he was effectively four inches taller than Grantaire and Grantaire wasn’t short, so. Also, on his eighteenth birthday Combeferre had decided that his calling in life was to become Grantaire’s personal wet dream and got a tattoo on his left forearm and then one on his left shoulder and the one on his right ribcage and Grantaire was just so fucking done when he got a semi-sleeve on his right bicep because who the fuck is allowed to be so hot and so smart? Like isn’t that illegal or against the church or something?_

_Anyway, Grantaire was crushing harder than a twelve year old girl and he wasn’t sure he could go a whole afternoon with Combeferre and not blush cherry-red the whole time or force himself on Combeferre’s lap or something else embarrassing like that. Because that was likely, Grantaire thought about doing that a lot. Combeferre’s thighs were sinful. They were arguably as nice as Enjolras’ ass and Jehan’s eyes and Courfeyrac’s smile. That’s saying something, friends. So no one can judge Grantaire for drinking a lot in preparation the night before and then spending forty minutes choosing and outfit that made him look his best, even if he knew he was being dumb. Combeferre was with Enjolras and there was little in the world that could tear those two apart. Nonetheless, Grantaire let himself hope. Even if he didn’t tell anyone else about it, Grantaire always allowed himself the slightest sliver of hope when it came to things he really wanted. And good God, he’d wanted Combeferre and Enjolras for years. In multiple situations and positions._

_“Grantaire, you’re here.” Combeferre said with a wide smile as he swung open his door. Grantaire smiled back, hoping he didn’t look as awkward as he felt, as awkward as Combeferre was not. He looked fucking good, good enough to fuck, in a dark-blue V-neck sweater and black skinny jeans. He’d rolled his sleeves up to his forearms and Grantaire had to resist the urge to drool. Combeferre still caught him staring though and smirked a little. Grantaire coughed and looked up with a small smile._

_“I’ve always liked your tattoos.” Grantaire said with a nervous laugh. Combeferre just smiled and nodded._

_“I know. You want to come in, or…?” Combeferre stood to the side so Grantaire could sidle past him. He walked into the living room per Combeferre’s direction and dropped his bag on the couch as he gaped._

_“Shit, you guys have a nice apartment.” Grantaire muttered in shock. It was actually more like a loft, with brick walls lined with bookshelves, hardwood floors, and two huge windows that were practically the entire far wall. It was an open layout, so once he got past the front hall he could see the entire apartment, the kitchen and the large bed in the far corner. Combeferre laughed and smiled as he moved to the kitchen. He was barefoot, so Grantaire slipped off his boots as well._

_“Thanks. You want some food or something to drink?”_

_“Yeah, sure, give me whatever you’re having.” Grantaire said as he still stared around the apartment, “I would kill a man to paint in here. The lighting is fucking perfect.”_

_“Feel free to.” Combeferre said with a shrug, “We aren’t home often but just text me and I’ll leave a key under the mat or something.” Grantaire gaped at him now, but Combeferre wasn’t looking at him, too busy making what looked like a delicious sandwich._

_“Shit, is there anything you can’t do?” Grantaire asked, exasperated. Combeferre looked up at him, startled and Grantaire pointed to the sandwich, “That looks delicious. You can cook?”_

_“This isn’t exactly cooking, R. But if you must know, I’m horrible at drawing. And I can’t play guitar for shit. Piano I’m okay at, but guitar. Fuck no. That’s Courfeyrac’s thing. We took lessons together in high school and the bastard left me in the dust.” Combeferre said with a laugh, but now Grantaire was just picturing Combeferre playing piano… Combeferre bending Grantaire over a piano…_

_“So where’s Enjolras?” Grantaire asked suddenly, a little too loud, in an attempt to not make it too obvious what he was thinking. Combeferre handed him a sandwich and a Newcastle from the fridge._

_“He had a couple errands to run. He’ll be back eventually.” Combeferre answered. He moved to sit on the barstool next to Grantaire and again, R felt distinctly like a twelve-year-old girl. He was on edge just sitting so close to Combeferre, their arms occasionally brushing as they ate and their knees bumping every once in a while. They talked throughout. ‘Ferre was always an expert on keeping conversation going, knowing exactly how to get someone to talk animatedly about anything. It was one of Grantaire’s favorite things about him, how much attention he paid to other people when they were talking, always looking genuinely interested._

_“Well,” Grantaire started after they finished their food, “After listening to me ramble for thirty minutes, I’m sure you’re aching to get to something as interesting as biology.” Grantaire said as he moved up to sit on the couch where he had dropped his bag. Combeferre followed and sat down on next to Grantaire, as close as he could get without actually sitting on Grantaire’s lap. Their knees were touching and Grantaire had to fight to focus on anything but that, especially when he leaned forward to drink the beer he’d set on the table, pushing their thighs practically flush against each other somehow. Grantaire wanted to cry with sexual frustration because Combeferre was just so fucking hot. It was impossible to focus when Combeferre was staring at him the whole time, judging in his reactions whether or not he understood a concept, or when he would lean a little closer to R so he could read see the book better, practically flooding Grantaire’s senses with his stupid manly scent, or when he would rub his hands up and down the front of his thighs as Grantaire worked through a problem. He was actively trying to distract him. That was the only explanation._

“Yeah, it’s a low blow when he does that. With ‘Ferre, him rubbing his thighs is an unequivocal sex invite.” Courfeyrac said.

“I know, he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing when he does that.” They both hummed in agreement, both getting lost in thoughts, remembering exactly what Combeferre could do with those legs.

_“I can’t do this anymore. I hate biology, Combeferre.” Grantaire groaned, sinking back into the couch and flinging an arm over his eyes. Combeferre laughed and took the textbook off Grantaire’s lap._

_“We can take a break then,” Combeferre agreed. Grantaire nodded and took his arm off his face, expecting to offer his thanks, but was caught off-guard when Combeferre grabbed him by the hips and hauled him into his lap. Grantaire gasped and reflexively put his hands on Combeferre’s shoulder._

_“What the-” Grantaire tried to ask right as Combeferre slid a hand up to his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It wasn’t gentle or sweet as Grantaire had often fantasized their first kiss being. No, it was hot and fast. Combeferre didn’t wait but a moment before coaxing Grantaire’s lips to part with his tongue. He let out a rather undignified moan when he bit his lip softly and Combeferre pulled back with a soft laugh that sent a shiver up Grantaire’s spine._

_“What the fuck?” Grantaire asked, getting all the words out this time before Combeferre started attacking his neck and jaw with bites and kisses._

_“Do you want me to stop?” Combeferre whispered in his ear, nipping at the edges in-between the words. Grantaire groaned and shook his head because god he really didn’t want Combeferre to stop._

_“No, good God, why would you stop?” He moaned as he arched against Combeferre, rubbing their clothed erections together and making Combeferre bite down harder on his ear, “It’s just a little sudden.” He somehow managed to choke out. Combeferre smiled against his neck and then nipped and sucked his way back up._

_“I did mean for it to be a little more romantic when I proposed this, a little less sudden, but fuck Grantaire, do you have any idea how sinful your lips are?” Combeferre asked. He rested his forehead against Grantaire’s and ran a thumb over Grantaire’s bottom lip, “You do this thing when you’re focusing. I noticed it last week, you stick your tongue out to wet your lips and then just keep it there and fuck it’s so sexy,”_ _Combeferre purred making Grantaire whine, completely lost. He had no idea how Combeferre was so fucking composed, barely even stuttering over his words while Grantaire could only get out whimpers and random pleases, “You were doing it before and all… all I could think about was how those lips would look wrapped around my cock.” Grantaire gasped and rested his head against Combeferre’s shoulder, so turned on he was surprised he didn’t come right there. Somehow he managed to move off Combeferre’s lap, wriggling strategically to draw a gasp from Combeferre, finally a flaw his fucking composure._

_“Oh, fuck, R.” Combeferre moaned as Grantaire got to his knees in front of him. He started undoing the fastenings of those ridiculous black skinny jeans and ‘Ferre’s head fell back against the couch. Grantaire smiled as he palmed gently at Combeferre’s erection before tugging his boxers down as well. He was good at blow jobs. If there was one thing in his life that Grantaire had a natural talent for, it was his ability to suck a dick. Combeferre was nice enough to let Grantaire know his little fantasy; Grantaire was nice enough to let him know just how right his assumption was._

“Okay, now that’s enough,” Grantaire said as he leaned back in his chair, “I don’t want the nurse to walk in and hear me telling you stories about my sex life.” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and did that stupid pout again.

“Please, R? At least skip to the part where Enjolras walks in. That’s the best part.” He whined, tugging on Grantaire’s arm like a child. Grantaire smiled at him and leaned in to kiss his cheek once.

“Fine, but just because I love you. So, we’d moved to his obscenely large bed and right when Enjolras walked in Combeferre was fucking my throat while telling me to shove now three fingers in my ass. It was a scene straight out of a porno, I swear to God…

_“Hey ‘Ferre, I’m home- oh.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow and froze in taking off his jacket when he saw the display on the couch. Grantaire made a frantic move to get off, cover his ass which was practically presented to Enjolras as he walked in, but Combeferre gripped his neck tightly and kept his mouth on his dick. Grantaire whined loudly and with one more thrust Combeferre was coming down his throat, moaning his name loudly. He tried to swallow it all, but he’d been caught off-guard by Enjolras’ entrance and some of it ended up dripping down his chin. Again, he tried to move to cover himself off, but Combeferre tugged him up, spreading the come on his chin over his lips messily. Grantaire couldn’t stop the groan, despite knowing his audience._

_“I had him get ready for you.” Combeferre said, his voice low and scratchy. Grantaire looked up at him confused, but he was looking at Enjolras, so Grantaire did too, sparing a glance over his shoulder. Enjolras had been leaning casually against the wall, watching him and ‘Ferre, but the second Grantaire made eye contact he was up and tugging off his shirt. Grantaire dropped his head to Combeferre’s shoulder and whimpered loudly, having no idea what was going on but knowing that he liked it. He looked over once more to see Enjolras tugging off his red briefs, a picture Grantaire was going to lock away and save in his memory for the rest of his fucking life because Enjolras should never wear clothes. He looked too damn good naked. Grantaire felt Enjolras climb into bed behind him, but didn’t touch just yet. Grantaire looked up to Combeferre, confusion probably obvious in his eyes because he leaned kissed him gently._

_“We do have a lot to talk about, R, I’m sure you know that. But first, both you and Enjolras have a problem that we should probably take care of first.” Combeferre whispered, gripping Grantaire’s erection almost cruelly right as Enjolras laid against Grantaire, resting his chest against Grantaire’s back, dick resting right against his crack._

_“Oh fuck.” Grantaire groaned because damn Enjolras was hung. He was probably bigger than Combeferre and that was saying something._

“Hello, Mr.-”

“Noooo!” Courfeyrac groaned, cutting the nurse who had just walk through the door. The man looked at both of them with shock and Grantaire had to stop himself from laughing, “It was about to get really good.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse said, slowly moving towards Courf, trying to ignore the glare he was giving him, “I have to set up your IV.” Courfeyrac’s eyes narrowed even further. His grip on Grantaire’s hand was almost enough to break it. When the nurse brought the needle out Courfeyrac bit his lip and stared at the man’s movements attentively.

“So this isn’t the anesthesia?” Courf asked, sounding nervous so Grantaire grabbed a pen out of his pocket and started drawing on the opposite arm, thanking god he was ambidextrous so he didn’t have to let go of his boyfriend’s hand. Courfeyrac looked over at him and smiled a little. 

“No, this is just an IV. I’ll administer the anesthesia in a minute. I’ll make sure to warn you before I do.” Courf whined a little under his breath and leaned back against the twenty pillows he demanded they bring him.

“Hey, look, Courf.” Grantaire said when he was done with his picture.

“Heyyyy! It’s the Gryffindor crest!” Courf announced fondly.

“Yeah, I know you’re obviously a Hufflepuff, but I drew Gryffindor to remind you to be courageous.”

“I love it.” Courfeyrac said fondly as he stared at his forearm, making Grantaire blush slightly.

“It’s nothing really,-”

“Courfeyrac?” the nurse said, forcing the fond smile that had made its way onto Courf’s face into one of uneasiness that made Grantaire’s heart ache, “I’m going to administer the anesthesia now.” He said kindly. Courf just nodded his head slowly and then looked to Grantaire again.

“It’s going to be okay, right?” Courf asked him, eyes wide and watery. Grantaire stood up and leaned closer to him, kissing his forehead once.

“Of course, Courf. You’re going to be fine. I’ll see you in about an hour okay?” Grantaire said with a smile.

“I love you, R.”

“I love you, too, Courf.” Grantaire assured as Courf’s eyes started to flutter closed and he hummed happily.

“Thank you. I was always sort of afraid you didn’t.” he muttered quietly right as he lolled his head back. Grantaire gasped and shook his head, not really processing it as they told him to wait in the waiting room for what felt like the longest fifty-two minutes in history.

###

It had been forty three minutes when Enjolras called Grantaire, who had been sitting in the waiting room, on-edge and mind reeling. He answered the phone on the first ring, extremely grateful to hear his boyfriend’s voice.

“Hello? Enjolras?”

“Hey, R, how’s it going over there? Is he out yet?” Enjolras asked, the familiar lull of his voice already making Grantaire’s racing heart beat slow a little.

“No, he’s still back there. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Grantaire, are you okay?” Enjolras sounded a little worried and Grantaire felt a warm feeling flood his chest. They’d been dating for three years now and it still sometimes surprised that Enjolras reciprocated his feelings.

“No. It’s stupid, just something Courf said before he went under. He was all loopy and-”

“Grantaire?” the nurse from before said, beckoning for him to follow, “Courfeyrac is awake now. You can come and see him now.” Grantaire nodded emphatically.

“I’ll tell you about it later. I gotta go, Apollo. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah, love you, R.”

“Love you too.” Grantaire walked quickly down the hall, eager to get to Courfeyrac.

“ _Grantaaiiree_!” Courfeyrac slurred the second he was through the door, “You’re here. Macy, this is my boyfriend Grantaire,” Courf grabbed the nurse’s arm and pointed to R, who was pulling up a chair to sit next to the bed, “This is one of the ones I told you about. He’s Grantaire.”

“I know, Courfeyrac.” The nurse assured, sounding amused.

“He’s great. Did you know he paints? He’s also _really_ good in bed.” Courf muttered, eyes fluttering closed as he laid back on the pillow. Grantaire laughed and smiled apologetically at the nurse.

“Sorry about him. I’d say it’s probably the drugs, but more than likely it’s just him.”

“That’s alright. We get stuff like this all the time. You can take him home in a little bit. We just want to wait until it wears off enough a little more. I’ll go get a wheel chair, though, for when it’s time.” Grantaire nodded and said his thanks but Courf grabbed the nurse’s hand once more before she could get away.

“Did you know he loves me?” Courf mumbled, making Grantaire blush and groan softly.

“Yes, Courf. You told me about ten times already.” The woman assured in a kind voice. She winked at Grantaire before carefully extracting Courf’s hand from around her arm and left the room, leaving Grantaire alone with Courf. He wanted to say something, to bring up what he’d said before… but it hardly felt like the time, considering Courfeyrac was staring at him with drooping eyes, his cheeks puffed out adorably with the cotton stuffed in them to stop the bleeding. Grantaire doubted he was conscious enough to remember his full name, let alone something he said in passing an hour ago. So he just held his hand, traced the outline of the crest he had painted on earlier and waited for the nurse to come back with a wheelchair.

Grantaire did love Courfeyrac. Good god, he loved the man more than he could even put into words. Who could _not_ love Courfeyrac, with his infectious smile and his knack for making anyone and everyone feel comfortable? He was passionate and intelligent and funny and so sickeningly sweet, Grantaire was head-over-heels, rom-com level in love with him. Courfeyrac had been there since as long as Grantaire could remember. He had comforted him while he cried over Enjolras in high school, had held his hand and helped him live through his sister’s funeral, had encouraged him to apply to art schools, and most importantly he had been the main reason why Grantaire had come even close to believing he was good enough to be in a relationship with the three most amazing men he had ever met. Polyamory had never been a concept Grantaire thought would be fitting for him until Courfeyrac. He never thought he was good enough for one person, let alone three.

_He still remember the first moment he knew he was in love with Courfeyrac.  He’d been in the middle of finals week and Grantaire is unequivocally known for his astute skills at procrastination, so he had about three projects due that Friday and he had only completed one of them. So on Sunday he locked himself in his apartment and painted.  And painted. And ignored all calls and almost all necessary bodily functions, like eating and sleeping and drinking liquids other than cheap rosé. He lost himself in his work and it wasn’t until four days later that he managed to emerge from his self-imposed cave and reached towards the light._

_“Damn it, R! I know you’re in there!” he heard Courfeyrac yelling as he knocked hard enough to shake the door off its frame. Grantaire groaned and stumbled over to swing the door open for Courfeyrac. He held up a large brown paper bag and grinned (that stupid smile that was somehow lopsided and showed all of his fucking perfect teeth and made it literally impossible for Grantaire to be mad at him)._

_“I brought foooood.” He said as he pushed past Grantaire and into his apartment with very little permission beforehand._

_“Oh, please, Courf come into my apartment. I’m not busy or anything.” Grantaire grumbled._

_“Well, someone’s grumpy. If you must know, you ungrateful swine, I came over to feed you and check-up because you’ve sort of gone dark on us lately. I know your finals are coming up and I also know that you have a tendency to overwork that pretty little head of yours. So you okay?” Grantaire watched Courfeyrac as he spoke, moving around his kitchen and laying out the food as if he lived there. It made Grantaire feel… good?_

_“Um, yeah… I’m fine, Courf-”_

_“Oh! Fuck! Also,” Courfeyrac exclaimed, grabbing his bag off of the couch where he dropped it and rummaging through it, “I bought you this.” He tossed Grantaire a large tube that in his semi-shocked state he barely managed to catch._

_“You bought me paint?” Grantaire asked incredulously, moving to sit in the seat next to where Courf was. The boy nodded and tapped his fingers against the table._

_“Yeah. You mentioned a couple nights ago you were desperate for that shade but you weren’t going to have time to go to the store and I was sort of on that side of town, so I picked it up.” Courfeyrac explained before tossing Grantaire a burger, “No big deal.” He shrugged and Grantaire choked out a laugh._

_“I can’t believe you.” Grantaire whispered but Courfeyrac just smiled through a giant bite of cheeseburger and Grantaire just sort of … knew._

“L… Is for the way you _look_ at me!” Courfeyrac sang loudly, head drooped against the headset, words slurred from the cotton in his mouth.

“Courfeyrac! Please be quiet!” Grantaire shouted, knowing his incessant laughter made him seem much less threatening. Courf just went on like he couldn’t hear him.

“O… is for the only one I sees! V… is very very … um…” Courfeyrac lolled his head to the side and stared out the window in thought, “Very very… Grantaire! I can’t remember!” he whined.

“Yes. That is because you are currently coming off of a lot of drugs.” Grantaire explained, trying and failing to keep his eyes on the road and not on his very cute boyfriend.

“What are the words?” Courfeyrac whined, voice ringing with an increasing amount of petulance. “Damn it, R! For god’s sake! What are the words?” he persisted after Grantaire just smiled. “Can you just sing it for me?”

“Courfeyrac…” Grantaire sighed as he turned off of the freeway. The boy just whined louder and even had the audacity to push his bottom lip out in a pout. “Fine… L, is for the way you look at me...” Grantaire began, making Courf clap his hands together uncoordinatedly and grin widely. He made Grantaire sing it three more times before they finally pulled up to their place, which earned another excited applause from Courfeyrac.

“We’re home!” he cheered excitedly (Grantaire still couldn’t get over how cute his words sounded impeded by the cotton), “Combeferre! Enjolras! We’re home!” Grantaire heard him shout as he hurried around to the side of the car to help him out of his seat. When he opened the door the boy was fiddling with the seatbelt, trying to pull it over his head and dip under it.

“They’ll be home a little later, Courf. It’s just you and me for now, so let’s get you inside, okay?” Courfeyrac nodded his understanding but unfortunately was still a little shoddy on the execution of the plan, so Grantaire ended up carrying him bridal-style into the house, which took a lot more maneuvering than one would think. Grown men are not easy to carry, especially when they’re practically dead-weight. Somehow though, about forty minutes later when Enjolras and Combeferre walked in, he had managed to get Courf tucked into bed and actually on his way to sleep. Enjolras immediately went to the kitchen to start cooking dinner (soup was the only thing Courf could really eat and coincidentally the only thing Enjolras could cook without setting fire to the tri-state area) and Combeferre and Grantaire collapsed in the living room (the latter with a rather large bottle of wine).

“So, what’s wrong?” Combeferre asked after Grantaire had taken a huge gulp straight from the bottle. Grantaire just whined and flopped his head into Combeferre’s lap.

“I think I’m a bad boyfriend.” Grantaire mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I think I’m a bad boyfriend!” Grantaire said louder.

“Okay, Grantaire, don’t speak into my jeans, I can’t hear you.”

“I’m a bad boyfriend!” he practically screamed. He huffed and looked up at his boyfriend who was looking down at him with that trademark Combeferre-glare.

“What are you talking about, R?” Enjolras asked from the doorway, crossing his arms and looking fucking handsome as ever. Grantaire felt uncomfortably like he was under interrogation, so he sat up and sank back against the cushions. “Is this about what you said on the phone? About what Courfeyrac said?” Grantaire just stared at his hands and chewed on his lip, mentally running over every moment he could remember with Courf, from their first date at the Louvre, to their first fight over something he had said to Jehan, to their prank war last year (R and Courf against Joly and Bossuet), all of it. He couldn’t put a finger on where he went wrong, what he had done to give him the impression that he didn’t love him.

“You guys know I love you, right?” Grantaire asked quietly. Enjolras unfolded his arms as he stepped forwards and Combeferre scooted a little closer to him on the couch.

“Of course we do, Grantaire.” Combeferre assured, lacing their hands together.

“Why are you asking us this?” Enjolras asked again, this time in a softer tone.

“It’s stupid… it’s just… Courf said he didn’t think I loved him, is all.” Grantaire couldn’t make himself look up, suddenly feeling like he was making a big deal out of nothing.

“Wait, what exactly did he say?”

“I said ‘I love you too, Courf’ and he said ‘thank you. I was always sort of afraid you didn’t’ and he was under anesthesia practically so he wasn’t lying!” It all came out really fast and Grantaire was sure vaguely terrifying and Enjolras and Combeferre just stared at him for a long moment.

“He sounded serious? It wasn’t like a sarcastic-”

“No, he meant it.” Grantaire assured Enjolras. When neither of them spoke for another long moment, just staring pointedly between the three of them Grantaire yelled, “Fuck! You see! It sucks! It sucks that he feels like that! I do love him! So fucking much and I have been wracking my brain all day trying to remember what I did wrong-”

“Wait,” Combeferre cut in, “You’re blaming yourself for this, aren’t you? Fuck, R, this isn’t your fault.” He insisted and Grantaire just let out a bitter laugh.

“No, Grantaire,” Enjolras said, uncharacteristically gentle, “Whatever Courfeyrac is feeling right now, it isn’t your fault,” Grantaire made another protesting noise and both of them didn’t let him continue, “No. I’m serious. Our kind of relationship is… difficult. Feelings like this are to be expected, unfortunately. It’s not your fault.”

“We’ll talk to Courf when he wakes up, wait until he’s a little more alert, but until then don’t worry about it. Courfeyrac-”

“Why are you talking about me?” Courfeyrac moaned from the bannister. All three of them looked up at the whining baby who was halfway down the stairs, wrapped in a blanket and sitting down on a step. Enjolras immediately barked out a laugh, making Courfeyrac glare down at them harder. “So this is what you guys do now? You just sit around, drinking and partying, while I waste away and die upstairs?” Enjolras could barely contain his laughter and even Combeferre was biting his knuckle and smiling wide.

“I _called_ for you.” Courfeyrac whispered, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes, “ _Someone, please. Help me._ ” He croaked in what Grantaire assumed an echo of what he had called out earlier was. “But no one heard me. No one _cared!_ ” he whined, louder this time.

“Okay, buddy,” Grantaire got up and walked over to Courf, picking him up again as he had done earlier and carrying him over to the couch with Combeferre and him, “Why don’t you sleep down here, at least until dinner is ready.” Courfeyrac nodded and clung to Grantaire, nestling his head in R’s neck.

“Are you sure you guys want the invalid messing up your little ménage-a-trois?” he asked, somehow caking on the petulance again, diction slurred by the fluffy not-so-white gauze still in his mouth. Enjolras just rolled his eyes and kissed Courf on the forehead before moving back into the kitchen. 

“You wanna come help me check up on the soup, Grantaire?” Enjolras asked as Courfeyrac climbed off of him and settled in Combeferre’s lap, his actions reminiscent of a very large cat. Grantaire nodded and followed him into the kitchen, jumping up on the counter across from the stove as Enjolras stirred the way-too-large pot.

“Oh, good. You made enough for the small army I invited over tonight.” Grantaire teased, making Enjolras turn over his shoulder and glare.

“Shut up. So… you’re okay, right?”

“I just…I don’t know how to make him know how much I love him… how much I love all of you… what do I need to change? How do I do this _right_ , Enjolras?”

Enjolras stirred the pot, adding a bit more salt to the simmering concoction. “That’s what’s so hard to understand. You can’t make someone see that you love them. You can show it, and you can feel it, but it’s up to Courf to accept that. A big part of it, I think at least, is self-worth.” Enjolras stopped stirring for a moment, looking up at Grantaire, “Maybe Courfeyrac’s not as okay as we thought.”

Grantaire leaned his head back against the cabinets. He knew Enjolras was trying to get him to stop blaming himself for how Courfeyrac felt, but if what he was saying was at all true, then that means that Grantaire missed signs. He wasn’t paying enough attention, probably too busy wallowing in his own self-worth problems and taking up Enjolras’ and Combeferre’s attention too. But wait, he was doing it again. He was turning Courf’s problem into his problem. They had to be there for Courfeyrac.

“So, we’ll talk to him sometime tomorrow? When he’s feeling a little more himself?” Grantaire asked.

“That works for me,” Enjolras replied, pulling the soup spoon out of the pot and holding it out towards Grantaire, “Try this.”

Grantaire obliged, and as usual, Enjolras’ soup was a heavenly enigma. How and why this was the one aspect of the culinary arts not lost on E, Grantaire would never know. He smiled, and pulled Enjolras closer to him, wrapping his legs around him as he kissed the cook, without any prompting from the apron R had bought Enjolras as a joke a few birthdays back. Enjolras let out a contended sigh, resting his free hand on Grantaire’s hip.

“Are you two having the _SEX_ in there?” Courfeyrac called out loudly yet sleepily before saying in a much quieter voice, “That’s cool. I hope you guys are using protection, though. Because this is no place for a baby.”

Grantaire pulled back laughing, with Enjolras’ cheeks flushing an adorable shade of red. Like they were somehow betraying Courf in his time of need. Enjolras could be a huge softy (aka: _nerd_ ) sometimes.

“We should head out there, this is done,” Enjolras said, ladling his chicken soup into brown ceramic bowls. But when the two entered the living room again, Courfeyrac had once more passed out, and Combeferre had contentedly wrapped the blanket around the both of them, snuggling up to chipmunk-Courf while watching Ghost Whisperer (the early seasons, obviously) on DVD.

“Ah, the men we’ve chosen to love.”

###

It wasn’t until about a week later that the three of them felt Courf was recovered well enough to talk. It took a while because Courfeyrac was probably the worst sick person to ever be born. He wouldn’t get up for anything, he whined constantly, he demanded someone cuddle him constantly, and he had a penchant for biting when one of them tried to change is bandages. He also demanded he be on a regiment schedule of pain killers so he was effectively loopy for a good four days. It was not fun work. Grantaire suddenly didn’t feel so lucky that being a freelance artist meant he worked from home. While Enjolras and Combeferre got to take refuge seven hours a day at work, Grantaire was forced to take care of the giant baby-man. Still, Grantaire did it without complaint, taking it as a sort of penance for whatever he had done wrong by the man before. That mindset was probably the only reason he got through the countless trips to the bathroom, carrying Courfeyrac bridal-style, without murdering someone.

“Do you want a painkiller?” Grantaire asked once Courfeyrac rolled over awake on the couch. The boy shook his head and stared up at R with wide eyes and a dopey smile as the older man internally rejoiced (the lack of adamant demand for drugs was a very positive sign and meant that Courf finally wouldn’t be completely helpless). He reached out his arms and made grabby hands in way of beckoning his boyfriend closer. Grantaire sighed and pushed off the doorframe, smiling reluctantly as he climbed onto the sofa behind Courf and wrapped his arms around him.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” Courf whispered sweetly, taking R’s face between both hands and placing feathery kisses wherever he could reach. Grantaire laughed under the onslaught of affection. “I’m the luckiest fella alive,” Courfeyrac said in an accent that adorably resembled a southern belle, making Grantaire chuckle, “What did I do that was good enough to deserve you?” he asked, sounding normal again, in a whispered tone.

“Wait, what’s that face?” Courfeyrac asked after a moment, scrutiny evident in his voice.

“What face?”

“That face! No, stop smiling, I saw it! Something’s wrong. What’s wrong?” Courfeyrac asked, his voice tapering off to something surprisingly gentle.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Grantaire insisted as he tried to smile, tried not to let Courfeyrac see his worry.

“No, something _is_ wrong,” Courf muttered as he gently cradled Grantaire’s face between both of his hands, “That was your ‘self-deprecation’ face. I know that face. I hate that face.” He added softly, placing a sweet kiss on the tip of Grantaire’s nose. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I love you so much, Courf. Please tell me you know that.” Grantaire said in earnest after a beat of silence. Courfeyrac stared at him, eyes puzzled.

“Of course I know that.”

“Yeah, well… shit, I was supposed to wait until Combeferre and Enjolras got home to talk about this.” Courfeyrac drew back a little and nodded.

“Okay. We’ll wait then.” Courf decided, sounding none too happy about it. He stared at R for a long moment before leaning in a kissing him gently once, twice, a third time, melding into something a little more firm, a little more passionate.

“ _Ughh_ , that’s hours away. Please tell me now.” Courf begged, breaking away from the kiss and that familiar whining voice that had been so prevalent when he was heavily medicated once again palpable in his voice. Grantaire shook his head and laughed, internally missing Courfeyrac’s lips on his but knowing that Courfeyrac’s legendary stubbornness wouldn’t let him get by this. Usually, when it was just like a normal issue, it was the easiest thing in the world to distract Courfeyrac, he was like a little kid chasing butterflies, but when it was something he actually cared about _nothing_ could change his mind. It was infuriating and infuriatingly admirable.

“You’re sure you want to know? It’s going to start a sappy conversation about feelings and love and shit, I hope you know that.” Grantaire warned. Courf just nodded in resolution and waited for Grantaire to explain. R sighed loudly and ran a hand over his face before speaking.

“Well, the other day, before your _minor_ operation that should have required like _two_ days of recovery, by the way, after they had just put you under anesthesia, all loopy and falling asleep, you… may have said something about you thinking I … maybe… didn’t love you?” Every time Grantaire said it he felt like he sounded more and more petulant, like he was burdening everyone with his insecurities, with his failings. Why didn’t he just _show_ Courf that he was the love of his life? Why couldn’t he, in the past? What had happened? If Grantaire had just done things fucking right the first time-

“I said that?” Courfeyrac asked, eyes wide and almost disbelieving.

“Something like it.” Grantaire answered in a notably smaller voice. Courfeyrac just shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Fuck. I can’t _believe_ I said that… That’s like, _fuck_ that’s like a baseline insecurity for me. Like that’s tucked away deep down with ‘am I good enough for heaven’, with Enjolras’ fear of finding a relation to the monarchy and with Combeferre’s irrational fear of aliens already being on earth… shit. I am _so_ sorry, R. I … oh _fuck_ , you’re blaming yourself for this aren’t you?” Courf asked, not _angrily_ but when Grantaire tilted his head down and didn’t meet his eyes, the boy grabbed R’s chin and pushed it up so he was forced to maintain eye contact, “This has nothing to do with you, R. You didn’t do _anything_ wrong.” Courfeyrac’s voice was soft and soothing, but he broke off at the end and cursed, squeezing his eyes closed.

“Oh… oh-okay.” Grantaire stuttered. He didn’t want to argue with him because anything he said would indefinitely make the issue about him and damn it all to hell this was going to be about Courfeyrac and how to help _him_.

“Please, it would mean the world to me if you could just… forget it happened.” Courfeyrac said earnestly. Grantaire nodded, albeit with great reluctance, and mentally decided he would just wait for Enjolras and Combeferre to get home to talk more. Grantaire was far too ill-equipped to deal with this. Who the fuck was he kidding? He didn’t even know _what_ he felt half the time, let alone how to talk about it or how to fix others’ emotions.

“I’ll try.” He whispered, resigned, and Courf gave a small smile in return before shifting in Grantaire’s arms so his back was to R’s front. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table (a dark green thing with purple vines curling up the legs that Jehan had found for them;  it was horridly ugly, but they all mutually agreed that they loved it, for whatever reason) and turned the TV on to one of those Law and Order shows he loved so much. Grantaire’s head was still reeling, even as he tried to focus on Courf’s steady breathing, his random contented hums as he snuggles back closer to R, the tapping of his foot to the beat of a song only in his head, and it only took about ten minutes before Grantaire realized that there was no way he could forget about it. Not even until his other two boyfriends made it home.

“But what was it… I mean there had to have been _something_.” Grantaire asked, hating himself for not being able to sit comfortably in the silence, for not respecting Courfeyrac’s boundaries. He shouldn’t be making Courf feel bad for his insecurities, he just didn’t understand how to fix this. And he needed to fix this.

“You’re really shaken up about this aren’t you?” Courfeyrac asked, his voice small and he didn’t turn to meet Grantaire’s eyes. Grantaire shook his head and buried his face in the top of Courfeyrac’s curls, inhaling the smell of coconut and honey (that came from the ridiculously expensive shampoo he always bought for himself and would share with no one because one time a couple months ago he _convinced_ himself he was going gray and _when you have three boyfriends with naturally perfect hair you have to step up your game!_ ) and an underlying scent that was indescribably _Courfeyrac_.

“No, I’m fine. Just peachy.” Grantaire muttered and Courfeyrac laughed.

“You’re the worst liar.” His boyfriend stayed still for another long moment before sighing and rearranging the two of them so that they were sitting crisscross, facing each other.     

“You’re being silly. But because I love you, here goes.” He took a deep breath and then smiled shyly. “It’s nothing, really. This is going to be weird because I’ve never said this stuff out loud… God, it’s _stupid_ , but … well, Enjolras and Combeferre and I… we’ve been close forever. Things come easy with them, always have. And I know _exactly_ how much you love Enjolras. You’ve been in love with him since… you first saw him, shit. And Combeferre, I mean, _fuck_ , who doesn’t love Combeferre? He’s fucking flawless and I’ve never seen any two people _flow_ as easily as you two do. I mean, you just mesh, you know? Like yeah, you have a _shit ton_ of differences and that definitely shows but somehow you still work and you guys… are good. So good. With _us_ … I don’t know.” Grantaire felt like his hands were shaking, like his stomach had dropped, like his world was going fuzzy, all those damn clichés he felt precisely while Courfeyrac took a pause and a deep breath. “We’re good, I know we are. No one makes me laugh like you and shit, are we _needed_ to loosen this house up. As much as I love Enjolras and Ferre, they can forget to let go. Like a lot.

“Also, I know I am _so pathetically_ _enamored_ with you, with your art and your singing and your fencing and how you always buy fast food for those poor people waiting by the drive-thrus… I love you, I know I do. And we have so much other things going for us… but I just worried it wasn’t the same for you. You and me… it’s so new and it wasn’t as much of a _given_ as the other pairings in our little foursome are, which I know, we are a whole and I shouldn’t think of us like that, but it’s damn fucking hard not to. And it’s dumb and irrational and… again, it’s a _distinctly_ repressed emotion and I _know_ you love me, I do. It’s just… well, we all have our biggest fears.” Courf added after a long moment, taking a deep breath and resting his head against the arm rest, staring at Grantaire with watery wide eyes.

“Courf… Courfeyrac, you beautiful fool. You’re right. What I have with Enjolras and Combeferre is a lot different from what I have with you. Enjolras is my Apollo, the love of my life, the Achilles to my Patroclus, the bane of my existence and simultaneously the best thing that has ever happened to me, and yes, for a long time, he was one of the only reasons I got up in the morning. And Combeferre…” Grantaire sighed and laughed, thinking back fondly on all his memories with Ferre, “ _Combeferre_ is my anchor. Where Enjolras makes me _want_ to be better, Combeferre _makes_ me better. He challenges me intellectually and philosophically and in levels of wit and he’s such a goddamn _good guy_. And fuck it they are both _so_ hot. I love them both and yes, I loved them maybe a little bit before I loved you.” Courfeyrac’s eyes were a little more than watery now, welling up at the edges as tears threatened to spill over. “But you, Courf. _You_ … you’re my best friend. I know I have Joly and Lesgles, but _you_.

“You know, there is little in this world that I love more than seeing you laugh. I’m serious, and when it’s _me_ who makes you laugh? Damn it, that’s _the best_ feeling in the world. You’re the center of my life, Courf, of all of our lives. You’re like a gravitational pull, tugging me in and making it impossible to ever _consider_ life without you. You keep me whole, Courf. And I remember, when I first started dating Enjolras and Combeferre, I was a _mess_ of insecurities, you know me. _Every day_ I thought I wasn’t good enough for them, despite their ceaseless words of comfort, I just _couldn’t_ make myself believe that I deserved _two_ men that I utterly admired.

“And then you joined in. You came in saying you wanted _all three_ of us and you gave your cute little spiel about why you wanted us each individually and that together was even better and I thought: _‘You know, if Courfeyrac wants me, there must be something I’m missing’_. I was so _proud_ of myself that somehow I managed to get you to want me in your life. Like how fucking lucky am I? Because you’re _great_ and _perfect_ and _intoxicating_ and you always manage to see people for exactly what they are. And you saw something in me… and that means _everything_. Enjolras and Combeferre and _you_ mean everything to me.” Courfeyrac was definitely crying now, tears spilling slowly from his wide green eyes, but he was also smiling now. No, grinning. That’s what Courfeyrac did, he grinned. It was like the Cheshire cat whenever Courfeyrac smiled, but sweeter. A lot more sincere.

“I love you so much, Grantaire.” he managed to squeak out before wrapping his arms around him once again and burrowing his face into the artist’s neck.

“I love you too, Courfeyrac. So fucking much.”

###

By the time Enjolras and Combeferre got home, Grantaire and Courfeyrac were _thoroughly_ good, tangled up together with each other and with the blanket, which was all they were wearing by the way.

“So this is what you guys do all day?” Combeferre asked, shucking off his bag and laying on the couch next to R, putting his arm around the artist, “Me and Enjolras leave to go work and you two lounge around having sex and drinking wine?” he tugged at the blanket wrapped around Grantaire’s waist, making the younger boy squeal before concealing himself again. Combeferre laughed and placed a kiss on his cheek sweetly as Grantaire blushed.

“Well, maybe you two should have taken time off to take care of our invalid boyfriend and then you could be involved in all of our sexing and boozing as well.” Grantaire enunciated. Enjolras laughed as he plopped down next to Courfeyrac, wrapping his arms around him as he flipped through channels on the TV.

“I hope there was no oral sex involved. You know too much sucking could hurt your stitches, Courf.” Enjolras deadpanned, eyes not leaving the TV as he smirked and Courf stuck his tongue out at him. Grantaire laughed and shook his head.

“Nope. All the sucking was done by me, I assure you. I took that burden upon myself.” R said with a grin. Enjolras scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m sure that was a real burden for you who never bothered to excel past Freud’s oral fixation stage of infancy.” Enjolras teased.

“Hey, you’ve never had a problem with my oral fixation before, Apollo.” Grantaire teased back with a wink. Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“Enjolras, so help me God, unless its _Vikings_ don’t you dare make me watch anything on The History Channel!” Courfeyrac yelled, cutting off their argument. Enjolras, who was right about to press the button to change the channel, groaned.

“Courfeyrac! Please?” Enjolras whined.

“No!” All three of them said in response, even Combeferre who had put up with too many hours of The History Channel with Enjolras before they were dating. 

“I have a few episodes of Pretty Little Liars on DVR I haven’t watched yet.” Courfeyrac offered, making everyone else groan again. “Oh come on, you guys are uncultured swine. It’s a good show!” Courfeyrac snapped, pouting absurdly and leaning further into Enjolras.

“Courfeyrac, its target audience is sixteen year old girls. You’re a 24 year old male.” Combeferre argued with a much calmer tone. Courfeyrac glared at him.

“Since when are we people who cave to societally implemented gender norms?” the four of them were quiet for a beat before Courf shouted, “Let me watch my damn show!” Even after years of friendship it still baffled Grantaire how Courfeyrac almost always managed to get his way. Two hours later, the four of them were still avidly watching four (yes, very _pretty_ ) girls flounder around a mystery that seemed as if it would never be solved.

“So everything’s okay?” Combeferre whispered in his ear, reaching down to intertwine their fingers together. Grantaire nodded and smiled up at him, not needing clarification.

“Yeah. Everything’s okay. Everything’s great.” Grantaire said sincerely before leaning up to kiss Combeferre softly on the lips. Once he’d turned back around, comfortably settled against Combeferre’s warmth, he stared fondly down at Combeferre’s hand around his own, no bigger or smaller but thinner and softer, his thumb tracing circles on R’s skin; he looked over at Enjolras and Courf, similarly tangled up on the couch next to them. Enjolras was staring intently at the screen while he absently toyed with Courfeyrac’s curls. As the episode they were on ended, faded away after some obnoxiously cryptic footage played of some mysterious culprit concealed in all black, Enjolras pretended not to notice Courfeyrac asleep and drooling on his shoulder as he reached for the remote and flipped to the next one recorded.

“I thought you didn’t like this show?” Grantaire whispered, not able to resist.

“Fuck you.” Enjolras whispered back, not even bothering to take his eyes off the screen as Ferre and R snickered happily.

“Yeah, everything’s really great.” Grantaire whispered to himself, cliché as it was, happy that this time he actually believed it.  


End file.
